


Broken Glass and Healing Hearts

by CatKidJen



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, One Shot, arrowverse books btw, basically my version of dustmans origin and, climate changeling? 10/10 made me cry, clydes death in a new perspective, dustman has no canon real name so i made one up, dustman is a character by Richard Knaak in, dustman is kinda, ehh you'll see, how dustman got dusty and how hes clyde, my version of why clyde has a god complex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 08:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17998523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatKidJen/pseuds/CatKidJen
Summary: Otherwise known as who's really to blame for Clydes death.





	Broken Glass and Healing Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> With inspiration of Climate Changeling by Richard Knaak. 10/10, good read. I am in the process of reading it for the second time. If anyone of you are interested, I really suggest you read it if you like things centered around Mark Mardon's depression.

The old barn creaked with the strong wind that seemed to follow Clyde everywhere. The young man was out of breath and struggling to even walk. His powers were to rough for him to continue using. 

His back hit the wooden wall, every part of him aching terribly. Tears threatened to pour down his face to make marks in the dirt that was hitting against him. 

He let out another shakey breath as he heard the footsteps approach him. 

 Arnold Smith was a metahuman Clyde had met three weeks after the particle accelerator exploded. He was a shapeshifter that preferred to go by "The Ghost". 

He had promised he could help Clyde control his abilities, but so far hadn't done much of a job of that. And its been nine months.

The Ghost had kept dropping hints that he could do a lot more than change his face, but that didn't seem to occur to Clyde. 

. . . The Ghost also tried to convince Clyde to let him take over everytime he was in pain. But, the blonde couldn't accept to that. But that didn't stop Arnold. He would often try physical advances on him, but it still wouldn't work. He was too strong spirited.

The Ghost had no idea why he had that much confidence. He was broken. He didn't have any family left. No a single friend was alive. All there was right now was likely the police searching for him. 

Clyde stared at the approaching brunette. His vision was blurry from the wind and tears, but he could still tell who it was.

"You're so. . . Pathetic from this angle." The Ghost stated, placing his hands behind his back.

"S-shut up." Came the weak reply from Clyde. He tried lifting himself to stand at his full six foot one but it was no use. He was too uneasy to do anything but speak and stare. 

"You should let me take over now." The Ghost said, almost cheerfully. "It'll make you feel better. You won't have to feel the pain anymore. I'll be in control and you can just rest." He brought a cold hand up to caress the twenty-seven-year-old's cheek. 

Clyde almost gave into the calming touch but he jerked himself away. He could hear a quiet growl emit from the taller man, but he chose to ignore the warning. "If you wanted to help me, you wouldn't jump straight to that. We had a deal," He said, almost loud enough. "I rob a few banks for you, you keep me safe and help me control myself. The deal wasn't that you would -" He cut himself off with a rough cough from the dust in the air. 

The Ghost fought a smirk as his point was proving itself. 

Besides, he needed this chance to be more powerful than himself. Sure, he could take people's deepest needs into his own hands and ruin people but. . . He wanted so much more.

And _Clyde_ - 

Clyde was a god. A blind one, though. He never realized his true potential. . . 

"Look at you, you're a mess. You can't keep yourself in control for longer than ten minutes. You need me." The Ghost purred darkly. "Just say it."

He leaned down to the young man's ear.

" _Tell me_ you need me to help you." 

Clyde froze, considering his options. Telling Arnold no would only further anger him and could potentially make Clyde lose a good partner. . . Telling him yes would mean he wouldn't know what he was doing while he was in control.

What the hell, right?

". . . Fine. Fine, I'll let you take over. It's your turn just . . . Just don't kill anyone this time." 

The Ghost grinned sharply, lifting the end up the necklace rope around his neck. 

Clyde always wondered what that was. . . Now it was all coming together. 

Clyde didn't know what happened after he took his necklace off. He blacked out. The only thing he could hear the was words he didn't know would be the last ones he'd ever hear.

" _Just relax . . . You'll get your chance to be in control again."_

And just like that, Clyde Mardon wasn't the soul in the pale blue eyes of this body. It was now The Ghost inhabiting him. 

Sure, the body walked and talked like him, but it would never be the same man.

* * *

His plan was all coming together. As he sat on a workshop stool in the middle of the barn, he couldn't help but smirk to himself as the quiet sound of a police interceptor pulling up outside.

As the detectives entered the building, he knew he had to put on an act but - 

Oh, why couldn't he just change his own story up? Or, at least, create the story of what he believed Clyde Mardon should've thought when they'd met.

" _Put your hands over your head_." One of them spoke from behind him. 

"You got me." He replied, not daring to hold back his chuckle. "The night of the storm, after S.T.A.R Labs blew, when our plane went down and I woke up on the ground alive, I understood . . . I am God."

It felt so damn good to hear this voice utter those words. The words The Ghost almost craved to hear.

Working with him would've been so much easier if this was the way he thought.

* * *

Not even five minutes later he was trying to get rid of a glitch in the system. 

Someone who could run at the speed of light. 

This man, against a tornado? There was no chances for the speedster.

Or, he thought so, until the tornado was suddenly ripped apart and he was shoved to the ground.

He lifted himself up off the ground, pulling the gun out from its spot.

The leather-clad hero stood knelt in front of him, breathing heavily with his mask now off.

The Ghost chose to speak first in a cool tone. 

"I didn't think there was anyone else like me." 

Obviously there were more superhumans in the world.

What he meant. . . What he meant was _gods_. Godlike beings in this world.

"I'm not like you. You're a murderer." The speedster replied.

He let out a low laugh, aiming the gun, and then - 

Two shots were fired. Neither of them were his. 

The vessel hit the ground, limp - dead.

He floated off of the body in dust-like particles. He was already able to do that, but, now he couldn't keep a proper human form.

"No. . ." He muttered, looking through his hands. He wasn't even broken as himself anymore. He was stuck as Clyde Mardon.

" _No_!" He shrieked. He wasn't heard. All he could see was the killer running toward the speedster.

His plan was ruined. He needed something more powerful.

And then he remembered.  . . 

_Mark Mardon didn't die that day._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, I did wanna fight myself for this one shot but oh well. It's been on my mind for a few days.


End file.
